


A Broken Bird

by You_are_dead_to_me (Tachiana_Hon_no_Mushi)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Aliens, Aliens are hard to create, Batman adopts children like cat ladies adopt cats, Blame Megan, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Friendship, Graphic descriptions of violence, I suck at tagging, I was forced to post this, Jason Todd is Alive, Kidnapping, Multi, Nightmares, OFC - Freeform, OFC point of view, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce, Slave Trading, Space ships!, There is a character named Fishy in this, Tim is a caffeine addict, Trigger Warnings, Why does DC suck at Aliens?, be forewarned, jason is a bad influence, seriously, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tachiana_Hon_no_Mushi/pseuds/You_are_dead_to_me
Summary: She was a child of Batman. Paranoid, well trained, and probably broken. She had a fought a war, and when she came home the war was still there. Just this time there was no one to fight but herself.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I was told I should write this. And...I did. I’m not new to the Batman fandom, but this is the first fic I’ve ever written for it... I’m not entirely sure my characterization is any good, but I did my best. Hope you enjoy reading it :)
> 
> And do note, this entire thing is Megan’s fault.

_ “It’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” – Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms _

  
  


12:06am, February 17th 2019, The Bowery 

* * *

 

3 Months after Battle for Zoree

  
  


Melanie still remembered the night Batman saved her in vivid detail. Not that she’d ever tell Bruce that, he didn’t need more guilt on his already guilt-laden shoulders. So she told him she didn’t remember much.

  
  


But there were still nights that she woke up screaming.

  
  


_ She huddled in the corner of the living room, just behind the musty couch, and could almost believe she was safe here, hidden in the dusty corners of the room. _

  
  


_ But she knew she never was. _

  
  


_ Especially not on nights like this one. _

  
  


_ Daddy had come home and found Mom with the needle in her arm again, and he’d hit her. He’d promised Melanie he wouldn’t ever hit Mom again. _

  
  


_ He always forgot. _

  
  


_ Then Mom started screaming, and screaming, and she didn’t stop. _

  
  


_ So she screamed too, she screamed until the world went dark. _

  
  


_ When she finally opened her eyes, the room was silent. Silence was always a bad sign, it meant that Mom would be on the floor, and Daddy would be gone. _

  
  


_ She would have to help her mother to the bathroom again, and pull out the first aid kit that was almost always nearly empty. _

  
  


_ She dashed the tears from her eyes, and pulled herself slowly from where she was partially stuffed under the couch. _

  
  


_ Instead of the prone figure of her mother on the kitchen floor, it was her father’s. _

  
  


_ She froze. _

  
  


_ Then a caped figure appeared in the entryway of the kitchen. _

  
  


_ And that was the first time Melanie saw Batman. _

  
  


Melanie woke with a scream caught in the back of of her throat, struggling out of the tangled sheets, she stumbled into the bathroom, knees hitting the tile floor, she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

  
  


After the seemingly endless retching, she let the toilet lid close with a thud, blindly reaching to flush it. She let herself fall sideways, wincing as she hit the cold floor, she shut her eyes and let everything go black.

  
  


When she woke, she silently cursed her foolhardy decision to allow herself to pass out on the bathroom floor in a thin cotton shirt and boxer shorts. She hadn’t even bothered crawling onto the bathmat, at least then she might have been warm. Brushing her tangled hair out of her eyes she unsteadily pushed herself to her hands and knees, grabbing the counter to haul herself up.

  
  


She slowly forced her cramping legs to walk, barely managing to fall into the bed, she pulled the blankets around her and tried to force herself back to sleep.

  
  


After the battle on Zoree and the subsequent events, her nightmares had gotten worse, and had just kept getting worse. It had been like everything that had ever happened to her had just condensed into an instant replay.

  
  


That never stopped.

  
  


_ 0o0 _

  
  


She jolted awake at the sound of her bedroom window lock scraping, slitting her eyes open just enough to see by the hazy dawn light leaking through the half open curtains, she relaxed at the sight in front of her.

  
  


Tim was kneeling in front of the glass on the fire escape, scowling as he failed to open it. She pushed the blankets off, and crawled off the queen size bed, walking to the window. She grinned as Tim made a face at her, gesturing at the lock.

  
  


Melanie simply pointed to the side, indicating her living room windows. She had sealed her bedroom window that morning simply to prevent her brothers carelessly going in and out of her room. She had told them  _ so  _ many times to just use the living room windows, they were  _ right  _ next to her bedroom. And was therefore taking great pleasure in watching Tim’s obviously displeased scowl.

  
  


She turned around and crawled back into bed.

  
  


A few moments later she heard the scrape of a lock being undone, and the creaking as Tim plied a window open from the outside.

  
  


She had almost dozed off when Tim finally walked into the room. He knelt by the side of the bed, brushing his hand across her cheek lightly, he frowned and whispered, “Nightmares again?” She gave him a weak smile.

  
  


“It wasn’t so bad this time, it was just an old one.” She whispered back, stealing his hand back when he pulled away, “When will Jason be over?”

  
  


Tim allowed her to hold his hand while he answered, “He said he’d be done with patrol sixish, and,” She sighed, she knew what was coming next, “he’s told me once again to remind you that if you actually moved to a bigger apartment with a spare bedroom, or simply buy a pull-out couch, we wouldn’t be crashing in your bed all the time.” She shook her head.

  
  


“I like it here.” She said bluntly, Tim grinned.

  
  


“I know, I tell him that every time, and it’s not like any of us care.” She snorted. Tim gave her one last smile before finally slipping away to the bathroom.

 

_ 0o0 _

 

Jason cursed as he realized Melanie’s bedroom window wasn’t going to open, she’d threatened to seal it so many times now he’d dismissed it as an empty threat.

  
  


Now she had gone ahead and done it. 

  
  


He stared through the window as Tim twisted his head to look at him, he gave him a pleased grin and made a gesture towards the living room. Jason glanced at the window next him and sighed. Someday he would convince Melanie that the bedroom window was far superior and faster to open. Well, first he would have to convince her to unseal it.

  
  


But still.

 

10:15am, February 17th 2019, The Bowery 

* * *

 

3 Months after Battle for Zoree

  
  


Light burned through her eyelids, she scowled, scrunching them shut tighter and trying to bury her face into the pillow. Light chuckles filled her ears, and a hand skated down her ribs, she shied away from it, pressing back into the body behind her, the chuckles turned into full blown laughter.

  
  


When she finally cracked her eyes open, she was met with the expected sight of Tim. Laughing at her reluctance to wake up, and the arm draped over her torso was obviously Jason’s, she sighed. Then proceeded to roll over into Jason’s chest and bury her face into his shoulder.

  
  


The sun, and Tim, could suck it.

  
  


Jason huffed in her ear, “Hiding from the sun, Emmy-bird?” She nodded into his shoulder, ignoring Tim as she felt the bed dip as he presumably got up. Then the sound of curtains being pulled open filled her ears, she groaned.

  
  


“ Tim, really?” She squished her face harder into Jason, letting her words come out muffled, “The sun?” Tim patted her head condescendingly. She pulled her face briefly away from Jason’s shoulder and glared at him, before continuing her escapade from the light.

  
  


She jolted slightly at the sound of clinking bowls. Startled out of her light doze, she listened as her brothers murmured above her, “Melanie?” Tim’s hand brushed across her shoulder, “I made chicken noodle soup.” Jason snorted.

  
  


She paused, “You mean… you called Alfred and asked him to send some over and you reheated it?” Jason chuckled into her hair before he slid out of the bed, pulling all the blankets with him. She pressed her face into the mattress one more time before she looked at Tim, who was barely keeping a straight face. Jason looped an arm around his waist.

  
  


“ Exactly, Emmy-bird, Timmy here can’t cook to save his life.” He leaned over to grab one of the glasses of water now sitting on the night stand, then almost dropped it as Tim elbowed him in the stomach.

  
  


“ Shut it.” Tim glared at Jason, who just grinned harder, before leaning over to smack a kiss to his cheek.

  
  


Melanie sighed.

  
  


Caffeine. She decided. She needed caffeine. It’s very evident that Tim already had at least three cups of coffee, so she could assume that if she made it to the kitchen there was going to be coffee.

  
  


She hauled herself upright, ignoring the distinct twinge of her ribs, probably a side effect of spending half the night on the bathroom floor, she thought to herself. Sighing as she swung her feet off the edge of the bed, pointedly on the opposite side from her brothers, she stumbled down the hall to the kitchen.

  
  


Yup. There was the coffee. There was also a distinct crash that came from the direction of the bedroom. Melanie closed her eyes for a moment.

  
  


The soup had better have survived. “Tim! Jason!” She shouted from the kitchen. “My bedroom had better be  _ exactly  _ as I left it when I get back in there!” There was a distinct tinge of guilt in the silence that followed her yelling.

  
  


She refocused on the coffee. It was more important right now. Pulling a coffee mug from one of the overhead cupboards, she set it on the granite counter top as she turned to grab the milk from the fridge, when she turned back, the cup was gone.

  
  


She stared at the place where it had been.

  
  


The coffee pot was also gone.  _ Fine _ . She thought grumpily, and walked back down the hall with the milk.

  
  


Tim was already sitting on the bed, a different mug of coffee in his lap, looking extremely smug. Jason had gone ahead and plopped down on the floor, empty bowl of soup beside him, scrolling through something on his phone.

  
  


Melanie stared at them suspiciously, before setting the milk down on the nightstand and pouring the coffee into her stolen mug. She glanced at Tim, before slowly and deliberately pouring an obscene amount of milk into it. He gasped. Hands clutching his coffee a little tighter, “You… you…. Traitor!” He was pointing at her now, as Jason steadfastly ignored them, tapping at his phone. “How could you do that to a perfectly fine cup of coffee?!”

  
  


Melanie smirked. Then proceeded to down the entire cup in one go. Tim has been reduced to a series of indignant squawks and grumbles. She had won again.

  
  


She poured another cup, and giggled.

  
  


(She usually drank it black, she only added milk when Tim was there.)

  
  
  


Unknown Time, October 7th 2018, Zoree

* * *

 

29 days into the fight against the Krandariean’s for Zoree

  
  


She groaned into the blackened dirt. She hurt, all over.

  
  


She forced herself to lift her head, the sight that met her is one she never wanted to see again.

  
  


There were Green Lanterns lying dead all around her, she thought she might have seen a few Teen Titans too, but the thought hurt too much.

  
  


The enemy dead were far more in number.

  
  


It didn't make the losses hurt any less.

  
  


She allowed the tears that had filled her eyes slip down her cheeks, and took another painful breath.

  
  


She had to find Bruce.

  
  


She  _ had  _ to find Bruce.

  
  


But first she was just going to lie here till she felt like she could force herself to move.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... it's another chapter, and for this chapter.... I have a single warning: Melanie's superhero name is extremly uncreative. It started as a joke, then I couldn't replace it because nothing else fit... but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!

               

 **_“_ ** _If you always do what you’ve always done, you always get what you’ve always gotten.” – Jessie Potter_

 

1:40am, February 27th 2019, The Bowery

* * *

 3 Months after Battle for Zoree

 

Melanie groaned, pressing her face further into the pillow. She’d managed maybe three hours of sleep before she’d woken up from a strange half-dream, and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep since.

 

This would be the fifth night in a row. And she was so _tired._

 

She finally pulled back from the pillow when it started getting hard to breathe, she sighed as she shoved the blankets back, and swung her legs off the side of the bed, ignoring the chill of the floorboards.

 

Melanie scrubbed a hand briefly over her face before she made her way to the kitchen, carefully stepping out into the dark hallway, reaching blindly for the light switch. Wincing when the light flickered on, she squinted as she walked the rest of the way down the hall.

 

Stepping into the kitchen, she glanced at the stove clock, it read 1:45, Melanie sighed softly before she snagged the teapot off the counter.

 

It was going to be a long night. _Again._

 

Unknown Time, October 7th 2018, Zoree

* * *

 29 days into the fight against the Krandariean’s for Zoree

 

Her breath hitched as she dragged herself over to the body of a dead Green Lantern, looking for a comm link, there wasn’t one. She groaned as her head hit the dirt again, before forcing herself to her hands, and well, one knee.

 

She crawled to the next corpse, the link was lying on the ground next to him, her breathing was getting more ragged. Scrabbling to pick it up, she pushed it into her ear, pressing the tiny button. There was a fuzz of static, then a voice in her ear. “Green Lantern, report: unit 564.” Tears made their way down her face.

 

“Dad?” She almost sobbed, “Dad, I don’t know where we are, I don’t see anyone else, Dad?” She gripped the torn material of her suit, ignoring the twinges that it caused up and down her arm.

 

“Black Hawk.” A gruff voice stated. Bruce’s voice. She took a deep breath. Letting her eyes focus on the ground in front of her.

 

“Reporting: unit 564, unknown casualties.” She let her voice go even, though it still sounded unbearably rough, “Location unknown.” There was another fuzz of static.

 

“Black Hawk, injury assessment?” She closed her eyes for a second.

 

“Fractured tibia, broken or bruised ribs, and I think...” Her voice trailed off as the tightness in her chest came back, her vision was blurring.

 

“Black Hawk?” Her breathing was hitching, golden star bursts exploding behind her closed eyelids.

 

“Da-”

 

4:18pm, March 8th 2019, The Bowery

* * *

4 Months after Battle for Zoree

 

Melanie stared at the stark white wall of her living room. She’d been living here for four months now, but still hadn’t gotten up the enthusiasm to paint the walls. It wasn’t exactly what she had expected after moving out of the manor. Idly kicking her feet back and forth she let her mind drift back to the last time she’d actually spoken to Bruce. It hadn’t been pretty. Melanie just hadn’t been able to handle... well, him. She’d needed space and time, but Bruce would just...hover, silently. And as much as she loved Alfred, even he didn’t have much of a rein on Damian.

 

Who told her at every opportunity that he was Bruce’s blood-son, therefore she was useless and should disappear. Not to mention scoffing at her suspension from patrol, and ensuring that she knew that she was worthless to ‘Father’ if she couldn’t even perform basic duties.

 

So when she’d told Bruce she was moving out, at twenty three, she had found this perfectly reasonable. He had not, stating a fragile mental state, and ongoing trauma. Bruce had also been especially unwelcoming to her opinion of Damian.

 

The ensuing argument had been one to go down in the book of ages.

 

But the end result was still her staring at her blank living room wall. She sighed and allowed herself to flop sideways onto the couch, she was still on enforced leave from vigilante work, and it would be hours before Jason or Tim showed up to entertain her. She absently rubbed her cheek over the rough fabric of the couch and continued her staring contest with the wall. It always won.

 

0o0

 

_There was a little girl’s hand resting in hers, she was grinning at her, despite the small bruises that littered her face, and the collar that rested on her neck. Grey eyes wide as she listened to Melanie speak._

 

_Then she was gone. Melanie raced to the bars of the cell, shouting as the little girl was dragged away._

 

_There was the restraining pressure of the collar around her throat, then blackness._

 

0o0

 

Melanie woke with a gasp, rolling off the couch, her knees hitting the floor, shortly followed by her forehead. Tears streamed down her cheeks, she pressed her forehead harder into the edges of the floorboards, sucking in harsh, short breaths.

 

She clutched her chest with both hands, twisting them into the fabric. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t _breathe. Deep breath,_ Melanie thought, _deep breath, just breathe, just breathe._

 

Unknown Time, October 7th 2018, Zoree

* * *

 29 days into the fight against the Krandariean’s for Zoree

 

She woke with a jolt. Her eyes opened to darkness, and a splitting headache. But her leg and her ribs no longer hurt, she sighed and closed her eyes again, it wasn’t like she could see anything anyway. Her back was pressed against something cold, and she was no longer wearing her suit, or shattered helmet.

 

Plus her arms and legs were bound to it, not really encouraging. And whatever she was wearing barely touched her knees, then she realized she wasn’t wearing anything _but_ it. Light lit up behind her eyelids, and  she slowly cracked them open to see lights had been turned on, then there was the hiss of a door opening and the murmur of voices. Harsh and guttural, and very, very unfamiliar.

 

“Csos?” A voice demanded above her, she turned her head slightly to the side, and her eyes met with the bright red ones of a very ugly alien holding what looked like...  a clipboard? She managed to sneer at it through the worsening pounding of her head.

 

“I don’t understand you.” She stated. It stared at her. Gods above It was ugly, she thought, brain unhelpfully supplying a comparison of it to an anglerfish. The dangly antennae sprouting from It’s forehead wasn’t helping anything.

 

Maybe she had a concussion. That would explain the pounding headache just behind her eyes, the utterly strange sense of calm, and her brain’s sudden leaps to random things, like anglerfish.

 

Or that was just her panicking internally, and the headache was probably from being knocked out. Though neither of those things really explained the lack of pain in her other extremities. The alien abruptly drew her attention away from assessing her own mental state by slamming It’s hand down next to her still angled head. “Rugt? Frash?” It asked angrily.

 

She stared at it harder, and repeated her previous statement. “I. Do. Not. Understand. You.” She said slowly. Ignoring the things ever looming closeness. It snarled at her, revealing rather disturbingly sharp teeth. Like an anglerfish, the little voice in her head once again piped up. She closed her eyes again, it wasn’t like she could twist in any way to see the rest of the room, so she might as well. She ignored the slightly angry sounding conversation above her, and the voices disappeared after a couple of minutes.

 

A short while later the door hissed open again, the harsh guttural voice of the red-eyed alien echoed slightly in the room. She abruptly decided the alien was going to be called Fishy. _Points on creativity_ , the tiny voice that was starting to sound more and more like Jason supplied. Damn him.

 

Once again her attention was drawn to the alien, now proclaimed Fishy, by It slamming into something, though this time a small squeak followed the harsh sound. She craned her neck upwards in an attempt to see what was going on. Unfortunately the only view she got was the stinging brightness of the lights overhead, and steel gray walls before she was forced to lay flat again. Trying to move her neck and the harsh lights brought back the pounding of her head full force, and she curled her hands into fists, tugging slightly at the bindings.

 

There were a couple more crashes and grumbles, before a small hand rested on hers. Her chin jerked down in surprise, eyes snapping open. She was met with a pair of startling grey eyes. A pair of grey eyes that belonged to a child.

 

Fishy stood behind her, snapping at the child in It’s strange and guttural voice. The tiny hand holding hers squeezed, “He’s asking where you come from.” The little girl mumbled, she was wearing a grey tunic that was several sizes too large, and had a bright bruise blossoming on one cheek.

 

Melanie’s lip curled, she took a deep breath, “Where are we?” She asked, looking the little girl in the eye the best she could. Her eyes widened and she desperately shook her head,

 

“No, please tell me where you come from.” Her eyes filled with tears, “Please, or he might hit me again.” Melanie flinched.

 

“Earth.” She answered, there was no point in lying. She was obviously human. The little girl looked relieved that Melanie had answered, she turned to Fishy, responding in the same language he’d been growling at Melanie in the entire time. Fishy bared his teeth at her again, before redirecting his gaze back to the girl. She looked back to Melanie.

 

“Where on Earth?” She asked, “He’s trying to figure out who he can sell you to.” She whispered at Melanie’s blank stare, little fingers tightened around hers.

 

Well, shit. “Metropolis.” She answered grimly.  Maybe the threat of Superman would bring her some luck, though she doubted it. It was just her luck that she had been picked up by slave traders. She really hoped that they hadn’t thrown her suit out of the airlock. And that maybe Bruce’s trackers worked in space. While she had been checked out, the girl had finished updating Fishy on her origins. As he was apparently satisfied, he started herding the girl out of the room with short, harsh movements and a sharp tone.

 

As her little fingers slipped from hers, Melanie decided she was well and truly fucked.

 

5:34 pm, March 8th 2019, The Bowery

* * *

 4 Months after Battle for Zoree

 

Melanie groaned as she hauled herself off the floor, hissing as she poked at her sore ribs, she had barely managed to stave off the panic attack, but hadn’t had it in her to move. She rubbed her eyes roughly, wincing as her palms brushed the beginnings of a bruise on her forehead, before swiping at her stuffy nose with her sleeve, sniffling slightly.

 

She really wanted to sleep.

 

Melanie paused, there was no one home, and therefore no one to care if she crashed ridiculously early. And any chance at sleep was an excellent idea, even if it came at the cost of a near panic attack.

 

Stumbling on slightly shaky legs to the hall, she walked to her bedroom and pushed open the door, tripping slightly on a pile of clothes she’d left near it. After regaining her balance she crawled onto the end of the unmade bed, tugging the comforter and the sheets up with her.

 

Melanie pulled the blankets high over her head, poking a tiny gap through the blankets for air. She took a sniffly breath before closing her eyes.

 

Unknown Time, Unknown Date, Unknown Slave Trader Spacecraft

* * *

 Captured

 

Melanie flinched away from the almost claw like hands of the alien as they brushed her cheek, wincing when he yanked on her hair while he wound it around his fingers and tugged it straight. Abruptly he jerked her head towards him, she hissed as it reinforced her pounding headache, and peered at her eyes.

 

 _Fucking ow,_ she did her best not to grimace. Fishy ignored her reaction anyway, continuing his up close and personal inspection of her face. Melanie tried not to growl at him, every lecture Bruce had ever given her on kidnapping scenarios echoing through her head. _Don’t resist. Comply to any and all commands. Keep your hands visible at all times. Be patient, wait for your chance to to take action._

 

Fishy yanked on her hair again, she gritted her teeth. Basically all the guidelines Bruce had given her were exactly what she was the _worst at._ And they hadn’t been meant for if _she_ got kidnapped either. She silently seethed at the ceiling, doing her best to keep her face blank while Fishy moved his poking and prodding down the rest of her body.

 

Abruptly clawed fingers pinched at her thigh. Her upper, inner thigh. To be precise. Suddenly Bruce’s guidelines didn’t seem so important. She snarled at the alien, jerking her leg out of the way as best she could within the restraints.

 

Fishy snarled right back, in the same harsh guttural language. “Hel qualmag, gbheg.” He bared his teeth at her in a razor toothed sneer. From the tone she could tell whatever he’d just said had not been flattering. On the other hand his oddly sharp teeth still contributed to his angler fish impression tremendously.

 

She bared her teeth back, yanking on the restraints that bound her ankles as she pulled back as far as she could from the alien. He hissed at her before turning away, apparently done with whatever inspection he’d been performing. Melanie tried to glare at what she could see of his back, but it only made the pounding in her head worse. The black space suit stood out starkly from the strange green-gray of his skin, making strange blurring lines out of the corner of her eye.

 

She cursed at him silently, she couldn’t even glare at him without worsening the headache. She closed her eyes again. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do anyway.

 

Melanie flinched when he unbound her legs from the table, staying carefully still as he unbound one of her wrists. He yanked her wrist up and over her chest, twisting her torso as he sealed the strange metal rope to the other wrist before releasing it from the table, she gasped a little as the breath was forced out of her.

 

Melanie stayed as still as possible, pressing her knees together slightly until he yanked her up by her bound wrists, _fuck_ , tears burned at the back of her eyes, it felt like someone had just rubbed cheese grater up and down her wrists.

 

He jerked on the bindings again, this time hauling her sideways off the table, causing her to stumble as soon as her feet hit the ground. She gritted her teeth against the pain, her abused toes echoing the throb of her head, and the stinging in her wrists hadn’t faded.

 

He kept a clawed hand hooked into the rope of her bound wrists, which was incredibly stupid. He hauled her across the metal floor, with his fingers curled in the rope. Perfect for simply twisting her wrist sideways, _and_ _breaking his fingers while I’m at it_ , she thought with a hint of smug satisfaction, she just needed to wait for the right moment.

 

He purposely whacked her on the door frame on their way out. She hissed out a slightly shocked breath as she hit the metal of the doorway hard enough to bruise, almost jerking out of his grip. He barely looked at her, red eyes briefly glancing over his shoulder as he continued to drag her behind him, every twitch of movement grating the cord deeper into her wrists. Melanie almost growled at him, instead she focused on not allowing the rope to cut further into her wrists, anymore and they’d start bleeding.

 

She forced herself to take a deep breath. _Just need to wait for the right moment._ Melanie reminded herself fiercely. _Just a little more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's... the end! And a quick note on my canon... I don't have one! I took a little bit of something from everywhere, so there are pieces of several comics, headcanons...etc., so this follows it's own peculiar little storyline... Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... well... a month late... better late then never I guess? I tripped into a gaping plot hole, and it took quite a while to pull myself out -_-

               

**_“_ ** _Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” –  Samuel Beckett_

 

10:15 pm, March 8th 2019, The Bowery

* * *

 4 Months after Battle for Zoree

 

Melanie woke up slowly, vaguely aware of the sounds from the kitchen, she hadn’t bothered to close her bedroom door, so everything in her small apartment echoed down the hall.

 

Her head felt stuffy, and she could barely breathe through her nose. She huffed in mild irritation as she listened to pots and pans clink, and the crash of someone dropping something. There was no way she was going back to sleep now, so she might as well get up.

 

She shoved the blankets off her, crawling to the edge of the bed and swinging her legs off it, her feet barely touching the floor before she jerked them back, hissing.

 

The floor was _cold._

 

Someone snorted from the doorway.

 

She looked over her left shoulder, Jason was standing there holding a steaming cup, backlit by the light in the hall. She momentarily wished she could smell what was in the cup, whatever it was, it was probably heavenly if Jason had made it.

 

Then she grinned excitedly as he stepped forward, she made grabby hands at him, still grinning.

 

He snorted again, pausing to flick on the light, he looked at her again and froze.

 

He walked forward quickly, setting the cup down on the bedside table, she paused, confused. Jason reached for her face, setting his hands on her cheeks and carefully avoiding her neck, as he tilted her chin up.

 

“What the hell, Jay?” she grumbled, her voice slightly hoarse as she grabbed his wrists in a vain attempt to pull them off her face.

 

“What the fuck did you do to your forehead?” he demanded, peering at her face closely, “It looks like you slammed it against something.”

 

Oh.

 

“I...um...might have?” she offered weakly, finally pulling his hands off her face, he scowled at her.

 

“What do you mean ‘might have’?” he groused at her, finally turning to grab the green cup off the nightstand. He thrust it into her hands.

 

It was hot chocolate, she grinned again, ignoring her over-protective brother. The hot chocolate was far more important.

 

She took a slow sip.

 

“Mmm...” She closed her eyes. “Yummmm.”

 

The mug was immediately pulled from her grasp. Her eyes snapped open and she made a small sound of dismay, “Jay!” she snapped, moving to try and grab the mug, he held it out of her reach.

 

“I’ll give it back when you tell me what happened to your forehead, Mels.” He said brutally.  Because he was a brute, Melanie thought grumpily. Only brutes gave, then stole hot chocolate.

 

“Fine.” She hissed, crossing her arms across her chest. “I... might have fallen off the couch and hit my head earlier.” She looked pointedly in the other direction, as if admitting to falling off the couch was akin to admitting she had tripped on thin air.

 

Jason sighed.

 

She pouted at him, unhappily uncrossing her arms and reaching for the hot chocolate again, “Gimme.” She demanded, Jason handed it to her.

 

“Brute.” She grumbled, burying her nose into the mug, it smelled so _good._ And it was helping clear her stuffy nose.

 

Jason tugged her hair, “Brat.” He tossed back playfully.

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Midget.”

 

“Uncalled for, hot chocolate thief.” She hissed. Jason laughed, standing from the bed.

 

“I made it,” he pointed out reasonably.

 

“You gave it to me.” She retorted, curling protectively around the treat. Eyeing him as if he would snatch it from her any moment. He smiled.

 

“I’m going to go call Tim, ok?” he murmured quietly, “He’s still working.” He looked distinctly unhappy at this. Melanie nodded, still cradling her cup to her chest, she was starting to get a little hungry.

 

Jason ruffled her hair and left the room.

 

She sighed through her nose, taking another sip of the hot chocolate, and slowly started going back through her day.

 

It was going to take a while.

 

Unknown Time, Unknown Date, Unknown Slave Trader Spacecraft

* * *

 Captured

 

She squinted as they stepped out into another hallway, the light significantly brighter then the dimmed light of the room they’d been in, and the brightness _hurts_ , the jolt of pain sent through her skull strong enough that she tripped on her own feet. Giving the rope just enough drag to cut through the delicate skin of her wrists.

 

The jerk of the rope yanked her captor’s fingers hard enough that his fingers audibly popped. She sucked in a harsh breath, mind going blank, preparing for... something. Instead, Fishy yanked harder on the rope and continued to drag her behind him. Melanie suppressed a whimper as the rope cut deeper into her already damaged wrists, grating against tendon and bone. Blood dripped onto the floor as they walked, smearing underneath her feet.

 

Melanie stared at the slow, steady drip of the blood off her wrists. Ignoring the sickening feeling of the grated drag of the rope on her broken skin, pushing down the pain.

 

There was no way she could feasibly break away from him, he was obviously _much_ stronger than she was. If her entire body weight yanking downwards on his fingers only elicited the popping of joints, and not single second of slack grip, there was no way her actively struggling would achieve anything but damaging her wrists more than they already were.

 

She frowned now at the rope, it obviously wasn’t made to contain humans if it damaged the skin. Damaged merchandise wasn’t worth as much, and whatever tech they’d used to heal her before apparently wasn’t made for humans either, if her still splitting headache had anything to say about it. The little girl had said Fishy had wanted to know where to sell her.

 

But the little girl had had bruises.

 

Her shoulder was bruised from Fishy slamming her into the doorway, her wrists were now... _torn_.

 

If she wasn’t merchandise... or more accurately, if she wasn’t the kind of merchandise she thought she was, what was she?

 

11:19 pm, March 8th 2019, The Bowery

* * *

 4 Months after Battle for Zoree

 

Melanie jolted into wakefulness, momentarily confused as another voice joined Jason’s in the kitchen, she had dozed off again after finishing her hot chocolate.

 

She sighed as she listened to Tim and Jason, they’d obviously been arguing over the phone until Tim had stepped into her apartment. She slowly uncurled from her position on the bed, ignoring the cramping in her thighs.

 

She waited a couple seconds before setting her feet on the floor, she groaned silently as she realized she _really_ needed rugs for most of the apartment, it was just too cold otherwise. Not to mention the floor headbutting incident.

 

Melanie carefully tiptoed to the doorway of her bedroom to listen more clearly to the argument taking place, “I don’t _need_ you to worry Jason.” She heard Tim snap, “I’m not working too hard, I can handle this!”

 

Jason set something down with a heavy clatter, “I don’t think you _can,_ you look exhausted, when was even the last time you got more then four hours of sleep?” There was more clanking as things were set down angrily. Then Jason’s voice again, though quieter, “When was the last time you even spent a night with _me?_ ”

 

She heard an angry thud as ceramic hit her wood counters, she winced. “It doesn’t matter, I’m fine.” Tim’s voice wavered slightly at the end, she snorted as she wrapped her arms around her knees, fine, sure. Tim was about as fine as she was, which was to say, not at all.

 

There was a moment of silence in the kitchen. “I don’t think you are, Baby-bird.” Jason murmured softly, “I really don’t think you are.” Something loosened in her chest at the sound of the familiar nickname, she let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding.

 

Then she tensed all over again as she heard her name. “I just... I...Bruce...” Tim’s voice cut off, presumably muffled by Jason’s shoulder. It seemed like a hugging moment, she thought slightly nonsensically.

 

Her fingers dug into her knees.

 

She dropped her head to her tucked up knees, ignoring the painful twinge of her bruised forehead, her fingers dug in harder.

 

She pressed into the pain.

 

_No._ She thought, _no._

 

She abruptly let go of her knees, and pulled her head up straight, letting it hit the wall behind her. She wouldn’t do this. She took a steadying breath.

 

She could do this.

 

Maybe.

 

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *creepy narrator voice* and the plot thickens... nah, not yet anyway :D hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


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